Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder
by Dreampainter97
Summary: Blind!England X Reader. You could have sworn England would be in his house. It's not like he can get very far on his own! Where is he? Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. All rights go to Himaruya Hidekaz and whomever else. I really wish I had a copyright symbol on my laptop – that would make this much easier.**

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

"Hello?"

You knocked on the door of your boyfriend's huge house. No answer. You knew he was slightly…Slow…at opening the door, so you waited. You looked around the house absent-mindedly as you did so. His house was huge, and even though you've been there many times before, it was still really beautiful. Of course, the fact that he was the personification of the country of The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland explained how he had enough money to get a beautiful house like this in a desolately scenic landscape like the one you were at now. The drive to your boyfriend's house from your country was very long, but you had decided to move out and live with him to help him with his...defect? It sounded mean to call it that, but there you go. You had finished with most of the luggage, and this was your last bit – a suitcase full of clothes.

It was too bad, too, because the area around his house was so gorgeous, as was both the exterior and interior of his home. It was elegant, and he claimed that he designed it himself before the incident that took away his eyesight. He claimed that he had a wonderful sense of Victorian architecture (and you completely agreed).

You knocked again. _Is he okay?_ You thought, slightly panicked. _He is a little frail. Maybe he's hurt himself? It's not like he can go out on his own._ You reached into your pocket and pulled out your key, using every ounce of self-restraint required to not kick the door down and search the entire place. After all, this wasn't the first time he hadn't answered the door. The last time was because he was in the shower (you weren't exactly sure how he managed that), and wasn't able to hear the door knock.

You slowly walked in. "England?" You called. You usually never called him by his country name, but you were panicking on the inside. "Britain? Are you in here?"

No answer.

"Arthur? Jeez, for a blind old man you sure move quite a lot," you mumbled under your breath. "Arthur, love? Are you okay?" Nothing.

You knew it was a big house, so searching would be difficult. You shouted his name all around the huge house, not bothering to admire the antique decorations and surprising cleanliness like you always did. Since England became blind, you've had to clean for him, much to his chagrin. He didn't mind the fact that you had to cook for him, though, mainly because, as much as you loved him, he wasn't that good of a cook. At all. So any substitute from his cooking was considered good, even though you were using his recipes (simply modifying them a little).

"Arthur?" You poked your head into each room, checking down the basement (where all of his magical stuff was), upstairs in the attic, even in absurd places like the dryer and the closets. After all, you were becoming desperate!

As you ran past his music room, you stopped. You had already checked in there, but you went in again anyway. He was still somehow able to play the guitar, even though he was unable to see it anymore, so you were sure that he would be in there. You looked around. You saw many different guitars and woodwind instruments, a drum set painted with the Union Jack, a grand piano…Nothing.

You sat down on the seat of the piano, defeated. You checked _everywhere_ in that house! Where could he be?

As if the realization slapped you in the face all at once, you turned to the huge wall in the music room that was completely clear glass, allowing a perfect view of his gorgeous backyard. And there he was, sitting in the grass, facing the opposite direction of the house and motionless.

You sighed aloud in relief. "Thank goodness." You ran outside to the backyard as quickly as possible, but stopped when you were right behind him.

Even after you ran all that way, he still had not moved. You couldn't see his face from where you stood, not a few yards from him, but he sat loosely cross-legged, seeming to stare straight ahead at the wonderful view in front of him that he wasn't able to see, his hair swaying in the warm summer breeze dramatically.

You watched him for a moment, simply admiring the scene. Walking to his side, you noticed that his face was completely straight, and his eyes, while unseeing, were staring directly in front of him, as you had predicted. It looked like he could actually _see_. His eyes were unmoving, but his face appeared thoughtful, as if he was pondering. You sat down next to him.

His backyard was truly gorgeous. It was large and clear, with a beautiful garden on one side, and a view unlike any other on the opposite. It was a view of rolling hills, and of the green grass and trees that resided there. He claimed that deer liked to visit his yard often, and they wouldn't run away when he came outside to greet them. There were no houses or cities or anything manmade to penetrate a view like this.

Not turning his head, England spoke. "This used to be my favorite part of my house, you know." You turned your head to watch him speak, just now realizing there was a tear falling down his cheek. "I do love my home, and I enjoy my music room and living room, but the one thing I loved most was my beautiful backyard and its view."

You frowned in sympathy. "Yeah, it really is something else."

"No matter what time of year it was, it was beautiful. In the fall, the trees were all so many different arrays of colors; it looked like an artist splashed warm-colored paint onto the mountains. In the winter, the trees would be coated with white snow, and the ground would be the purest white – purer than an angel's wings. In the spring everything would begin to bloom, and there would be so many different colors of so many different flowers. And in the summer, everything would be a deep green, like I assume it is now. It would be such a contrast to the summer sky, a rich, pure blue. But now…I can only remember what it looked like, and, I hate to say it, but…I'm an old man," he said with a solemn chuckle. "I can't remember things as well as I used to. I can only recall the white clouds that cast shadows on certain parts of the mountains, and how the birds would fly above the scene theatrically. I would spot a deer or two sometimes, but now I can't tell if they're there or not."

You felt tears well up in your eyes. You looked out at the scene before you, imagining how awful it must have been to have a sight like this torn away from you. "You're very poetic sometimes, you know that?" your only response was a snigger. "But…There aren't any deer out. And it is green, but I suppose there are better shades of green than this." He finally turned his head over to look in your direction. It was a little off, like he was looking over your shoulder, but it was close.

"Really? Like what?"

"Hmm…" you smiled at him, even though he couldn't see it. "Your eyes. They look kinda like emeralds."

He threw back his head and laughed. It was a sound you loved so dearly, even if it wasn't heard quite often anymore. "You think so? I always hated them. Especially now, of course. Now they're useless." He turned back to face in front.

"But they're beautiful," you kissed his cheek, and his face flushed a deep pink. He didn't turn his head again, but his smile didn't fade. He held an arm out for you, and you scooted over and allowed him to wrap his arms around you. You nuzzled his neck. "And I'll be your eyes from now until you can see again. Didn't you say it wouldn't be forever?"

England blinked. "Well, yes. I could cure it, but I tried that already," he laughed again. "I couldn't even see the ingredients I was using! I accidentally mixed tea into the potion! Took me a whole bloody day to fix _that _mess!"

You laughed too. "Well why don't you let me help?"

"Huh?" England blinked. "You wouldn't know what the difference between dragon saliva and pixie tears!"

"Well, gee. Make me sound stupid, why don'tcha," you said, rolling your eyes. "Besides, all you'd have to do is tell me what it looks like! I could help!"

England rolled his unseeing eyes. "Well, we could try. Why do you need to be so persistent? You sound like that ridiculous hamburger-eater!"

"Because," you said, your tone becoming suddenly more serious. "I want to make you happy. You've made me happy for the entire century we've been together!" you nuzzled his neck again. "I want to repay you for all of the times you've made me smile."

England blushed deeply. "It's been ninety-six years."

"Ninety-six years and six months!" you chirped.

His smile widened a little. He looked touched by your words. "(Name)…" he touched his nose with yours. "You've already done that. Since day one. Whenever I made you smile, I was smiling as well. We're completely even. You don't need to repay me."

You flushed a deep red. The both of you looked like Spain's tomatoes. You pecked his lips softly. "Of course I do. You were the one who asked me out!"

"But you said yes," England smirked. "Even."

You blinked for a moment. "Well…I suppose…We are even, aren't we?" You laughed and gave him an Eskimo kiss. "That doesn't mean I won't help you."

He chuckled. "Well, I guess not. I would do the same if it were you." He kissed you sweetly. "But It's gonna be a long time before I can get everything I need for the spell. You in?"

You kissed him again, a little more passionately, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist. When you pulled apart for air, you said happily, "Definitely."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Yaay. Another oneshot. Yes, you are a country.

No, I'm not doing a sequel.

Thank you for all of the wonderful support! I love hearing from you! ~

~Dreampainter


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